I love you, Gordo
by orange crush3
Summary: Lizzie writes about life in college, and the birth and death of her son.
1. Default Chapter

_I love Gordo. I know, I know, not a very profound statement as I sit here in my tiny apartment, writing to the newspaper in order to get some kind of money. _

I grew up with that boy. I knew him in diapers, in grade school, heck, he was my first love. We went out from the end of grade 8 to the middle of grade nine. We decided that this just wasn't going to work. He was constantly telling me not to change, and that he would be there for me. He meant it, I'm sure. During grade 10 Miranda and Gordo "discovered" each other and fell madly, deeply, head-over-heels in love. And me? I was so jealous. I had never had another boyfriend after Gordo during high school. Before their first date Gordo came to me and asked me if I had any problems with them going out. It's OK, I said. I'll find some one eventually, right? He patted my shoulder and said, That's the Lizzie I know. I'll be right here if you need to talk. It'll be OK. But it isn't. Cause I love him. But as soon as he left I sobbed, I'm so selfish. I just collapsed. 

Third year of University, they announced that they were getting married. In was December; they would be married on January 14. Gordo had always remembered his promise and was always there for me to talk to. 

At their wedding I was the only unmarried or unrelated person there. It was awkward. In a kind of rebound stage I went out on a blind date; we ended up in his apartment, having unprotected sex. We never had another date.

And then, in April, I started having horrible morning sickness. I was pregnant. True to his word, Gordo would be there to talk to me, but I never went to him. I stayed, alone, pregnant, in my apartment, working full time at a grocery store. Gordo, Miranda, my parents, my brother; they were never an option. It was too much of a shame to show my pregnant self to them. I got all my baby things at an old GoodWill. 

On September 10th, my son was born. I named him David Matt McGuire; the nicknames of the people that I would probably never talk to again. I called him Matt most of the time. 

In the hospital, I pictured Gordo, seeing me, with this blonde baby boy with blue eyes that obviously weren't mine. My face reddened at the thought. 

In November, I got an announcement from Gordo and Miranda that their first daughter had been born. Brooke Annabelle Gordon. I pictured them in the hospital, the cries of joy from the new parents, over this new dark-haired, hazel-eyed baby girl. I mentally compared it to the birth of my son. 

I struggled to make ends meet, and, believe me, that wasn't easy with a 2-month-old baby. 

At Christmas, I decided to forget everything else and visit Gordo, Miranda, Brooke, and my family. 

I decided on Gordo first. I carried Matt inside my coat, and I walked halfway across the city in my old boots with holes in them. I had 2 sweaters on, and so did Matt. We got there just as they sat down for dinner. Miranda's mouth had an 'O' of surprise as she opened the door to see me, then a full-fledged shriek of surprise when I opened my coat and Matt peered his little face out. Gordo came to the door to see what was wrong, and the sight of him made me burst out sobbing. When Matt saw me crying he did it himself, and Brooke, who Gordo was holding, cried too. Gordo took Matt from me and took them… somewhere, while Miranda helped me take off my coat and sweaters, and my hole-y socks and boots.

"Did you walk all the way here?" she asked me quietly.

"Yes," I replied, in the same volume.

"Here, lay down. Sleep, until you're ready to get up." She murmured quietly to me, and the hum of her voice lulled me to sleep, forgetting the cold, forgetting my son.

In the morning I awoke, warm and confused. The bed was made with nice bedding, not the kind of stuff you buy at Wal-Mart or some thrift store cuz that's all you can afford. 

"Where's David… Matt?" I asked, to the nobody that was my room.

"David Matt?" he asked. "You… you always used to call me Gordo," Gordo replied. He was sitting on my bed beside me, and I wondered dimly why I hadn't noticed that he had been there. "Matt's your brother. Lizzie, what are you talking about?" He asked, and pressed his hand to my forehead. 

Him, touching me in any sort of way, made me feel woozy and guilty. "Don't touch me. David Matt… my…. Son," I replied. He quickly removed his hand.

"Miranda is taking care of him. Lizzie, what happened to you?"

"You want the abridged version or not?" I asked him quietly and laid back down.

"Tell me everything. You can talk to me," he said, and I remembered all the times he had said that to me. When I was a teenager, panicking over what to wear to a dance. When I didn't know what college to go to. At his wedding. And now, when I had a 4 month old son and he was a father.

"Gordo… we're parents," I cried, and crumpled into a ball. "After your wedding, I went on a blind date, we ended up having sex, and, voila! There's me, this poor 22-year-old girl with a son, who can hardly afford to pay rent. I never talked to him again. The guy. The father."

"Oh, Lizzie! Didn't you know that I, David Zephyr Gordon never break my promises? You could have come to me. Or your parents, or Matt and his fiancee, Melina?" At the mention of his promise, the ball of me became untouchable.

"Matt's engaged?!?" I asked, surprised.

"Yup. So why did you avoid everybody?" He asked, concerned.

"I was just ashamed… I mean, getting pregnant off a one night blind date isn't exactly the epitome of prepared, and mature. When my son was born it was the best and worst day of my life. It wouldn't be talking to you, like I am now, it would be sobbing all over your Gucci shirts and asking for rent money. It would be me and my son, nowhere to go, and me counting on my long-lost best friends to help me out of a hole I put myself in. I don't know what to do, now."

I don't remember how, exactly, the conversation went, but before long it was decided that Matt and I would stay there until he was old enough for preschool; I had dropped out of college and Miranda had previously hired a live-in nanny for Brooke, but it was decided that I would stay home and take care of the kids, while doing house chores as well. 'Well, I guess my childhood dream of being a stay-at-home mom worked out after all.' Sometimes, David came with me to spend the weekend at his Uncle Matt's apartment, with his Aunty Melina. They weren't married until Matt Jr. was 4, but still, they knew they were going to get married. 

When my son was 4, he was old enough to go to junior kindergarten. It was a hectic year, what with us moving out of the Gordons' apartment, me getting a job, and Matt going to school. David and Brooke had bonded well, and story kind of reminded all of us of Gordo and I. It was am often repeated joke how, coincidentally, my son had Gordo's real first name, and Brooke was named after my middle name.

My mom wasn't the happiest, most supportive mother in the world, but she'll do. We've talked a lot, and we've learned lots about each other. My dad, he was the same way. Matt is the best little brother I could have, letting me stay some weekends with Dave. Unfortunately, good things never last long, and my tiny family was having financial problems. Well, I was. Not Dave. So once again, I was working 2 jobs to make ends meet. Things cleared up as I got a raise in one job. It's been 10 long years since I last saw Gordo. I wonder if he remembers his promise. I'm at my son's funereal. He was only 15. It was a horrible car crash. Please, god, make this not happen. Make me wake up and be 15 and still be going out with Gordo. I wonder if Gordo knows about Dave. About his friends, coming up to the podium and crying, with me. A girl that I know I've never seen before but I know comes onto the stage. She has long black curly hair and brown Mexican eyes. "My name is Elizabeth Isabella Gordon." My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the name, the name that I had never heard. " My older sister, who knew Dave as a kid, couldn't be here today, so I'm coming. I'm here. She wanted me to tell everybody how good of a kid he was, how nice he was. And my dad wanted to tell everybody how… brave he was, and how much Dave resembles his mother. We all loved him." After the ceremony I walked over to this Elizabeth Isabella Gordon. "Who are you?" I asked her uncertainly. Gordo walked up beside her, saw me, and had just seconds before I collapsed sobbing in his arms. "I remember my promise," he whispered. And he meant it. Today, as soon as I send this into the newspaper, I'm going to take this gun of mine and shoot myself. And always remember Dave, and Gordo, and the other Elizabeth, and Brooke, and Matt. My parents. Everybody. I love you. 


	2. I wish that I could change

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A/N I wasn't originally gonna add another chapter to this story, but since I got reviews and people seemed to like this story, I thought I'd add how Gordo felt after her death. If there will be a next chapter, it will be from Miranda's point of view. OK? Ok. And this one's especially for crystalmoon21, and I do hope everybody will have tissues ready if you read the first chapter and cried. 

Every time I think of Lizzie, I have a mental photo album of her that I recall. From the time we were babies up to the time that we had children of our own, I promised her that I would be there for her and I hoped, every time, that she would remember that. Most of the time she did, but during the most significant situations that she got herself into, like getting pregnant and sinking into depression so low that she killed herself, she kept away from all people. She was a hazard to herself, not holding on to people in time of need. 

Needless to say, I loved her. I broke up with her after going out for almost a year. I was afraid that if I stayed with her things would get awkward. In typical smart-guy-acts-dumb fashion, when I went out with and eventually married Miranda I wasn't concerned with Lizzie at all. 

I wonder if she felt really betrayed by Miranda and I as a couple. I liked Miranda. She was a dear friend. We pretended to be in love; Lizzie pretended to be happy for us. Why? I don't know. I was being dumb; Lizzie loved me and I loved her back. And now she's gone. And I'll never get another chance to tell her that I love her.

I can't help thinking that if we would have sent a birthday card, or a Christmas card, or just came over to say Hi, maybe she would know that someone cared about her. Maybe she wouldn't have…it's still hard to say…killed herself. It's been a year, and I still miss her. Every day I see my daughters, and stupidly we named them both after her, so every day I am reminded of her and what a bad friend I'd been to her. Miranda is always telling me that if Lizzie felt that she needed me, than she would have called me. Or come to us, like when she did after David Matt was born and she walked the whole way. I tell Miranda that she needed me every day, and I needed Lizzie too. Miranda always knew that I wasn't truly in love with her, Miranda. Lizzie never knew. 

She never knew a lot. I didn't know a lot about her, either. Before she killed herself she recorded a CD of her talking that she wanted to be played at her funereal, and I learned a lot about how much she had to grow up when her son was born. She said that half the time she wishes David Matt wasn't born. It was a speech about holding on to people that you care about, and how she had never realized that she should do that. At the end she sang parts of songs that she felt best described her life. It was really moving; even I, who has only cried when my children were born and when David Matt died, sobbed. Miranda turned to me and said, "You loved her, didn't you." I only nodded, and she hugged me. She was crying, hard. Brooke and Beth, our daughters, were crying too. It was an emotionally hard day for all of us. 

I just wish that I could wake up tomorrow and still be 15, going out with Lizzie. If I could see her one more time I would tell her that I love her, and always will, and apologize a thousand times for giving her grief, and hug her once for every day that I put her in pain, because I wish I had never done that. 


End file.
